


Homemakers and Providers

by maevestrom



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Budding Love, Choices, F/F, Internal Conflict, Marrying for Money, Meeting the Parents, Poverty, Queer Themes, Rebuilding, Romance, Secret Relationship, Time Jump, Wealth, charlotte is a dumb thirsty lesbian is basically what i am getting at here, well kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-07 05:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maevestrom/pseuds/maevestrom
Summary: Ever since Charlotte left her impoverished family, she lived by two truths. The first: no one will be attracted to you for who you are. The second: marry your way into money for yourself and your family. For the longest time, those two things seemed intertwined beyond separation, but the final villager in the middle of restarting her life from scratch is starting to pry them apart.Shame it has to happen when she's introducing said villager to the family she promised the world to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this story for a month now not planning on doing anything with it buuuuuuuuuut it's Lesbian Visibility Day and this is the most I have ACTUALLY been in touch with that.

“You’ll be fine.”

Charlotte recognizes that to be the twelfth time she told that to Mozu. Maybe. Certainly double digits, at least. That’s the thing about Mozu- no matter what, she always fears she’s gonna mess something up, and her fatalistic attitude is really starting to piss Charlotte off. 

Though maybe she shouldn’t be mad. She can’t help it if Mozu’s self-conscious and she damn sure knows a thing or two about masking parts of herself to be more pleasing. She also can’t help it if she’s paranoid still about things going right, and Mozu is not helping.

The villager acknowledges her with a shaky smile as they continue in the carriage that Charlotte hired. That’s really when it started- Mozu said she was content with going on horseback when Charlotte offered to pay for her. “You shouldn’t have to,” she told the border guard. Charlotte neglected to say that she would have bought it anyway because they’d already done a little walking in the towns between transport with all of Mozu's farm ingredients and (mostly Charlotte's) luggage, and if she did any more manual labor to get to her parents’ house, she’d have jumped in a lake. Maybe she should have told her anyway. She wasn’t gonna make Mozu walk to the gods-damned place, and she’s kind of appalled that the villager expected it. 

Now, here the two of them are in the back seats of an open-aired carriage- Mozu in a striped black and white dress with stockings beneath it, and Charlotte dressed up more humbly than she has been in years in a full black pantsuit that Selena insisted she take. Charlotte doesn’t have a damn thing in her closet like that- hell, most of her outfits are selected to entice the men’s… voracious sides, but Selena insisted- claimed she knew- that it wasn’t what she needed it for. 

Charlotte could lie to herself and say that it’s to not look like a whore in front of her parents, but at the same time, she knows that isn't everything. Selena had that obnoxious smarmy smirk on her face that Charlotte really wants to punch off half the time as soon as Mozu was mentioned. Still, she’s noticed that the villager is silent now, hands dutifully on her lap with a box of homemade tarts in between, deep brown eyes staring widely ahead. The way her presence feels is so comforting that, in many ways, it’s bitter as hell. Mozu’s a gentle breeze that only turns into a vicious gale when she gets inside of her own head, but right now, as much as it cools her down it heats her up. 

Damn Selena and her know-it-all smarmy smirk. 

“My parents are pretty humble,” Charlotte explains to fill the air with anything but her thoughts. “All of the affluent shit I talk about, that’s just me who does.” She hardly means it, too- it’s a mindset of convenience. “So if you can impress  _ me _ , you definitely can impress them.”

Mozu blushes. Charlotte’s pretty sure that makes her blush too.  _ Smooth move, Char, you dumb bitch.  _ “I sure hope so.”

“I mean, with the pastries,” Charlotte adds, pointing to the box on her lap, “you can impress them with that alone.”

“Aw, shucks,” she says with a sigh and blush, looking down at the cardboard. Charlotte stops herself from seething and forces a smile. Mozu lost the right to self-deprecation a long time ago, somewhere between when her whole life was destroyed at seventeen and she started to restore it brick by brick when she was twenty. When Charlotte was twenty she was busy getting dumped out of the Royal Guard for distracting all the dumbass men, and as a twenty-three-year-old border guard she’s further than ever from nabbing a rich husband, and it isn’t like Charlotte doesn’t know why.

At this point, while it’s never been said, both of them have noticed that something has grown between them that goes beyond friendship and has more to do with the reason Selena had that obnoxious know-it-all smarmy smirk that drives her up the damn wall. Like she needs any more reminders that she can’t. She couldn’t. Not after everything. Not even if she wants to. Her parents deserve better, and so does Mozu. 

Charlotte stops getting tangled up in her thoughts and stays her hand that’s wandering onto Mozu’s lap, next to the tarts she’s looking down upon. She tries not to sigh, swallowing it down, but the weight of it all stays.

Why does something that feels as pleasant as Mozu twist her gut into agonizing knots?

\---

“You made it!” 

Charlotte could not have a more normal mother and father, Mozu figures, and that’s hard for her. 

Her own ma had been dead for about three months before she met Charlotte. Everyone in her village was, too. If it weren’t for Corrin, she’d be homeless, and she sure felt like she was anyway. She wasn’t a skilled fighter or some fancy royal. She wasn’t a real bold personality or able to act like she was. And a lot of people would have a purpose when the war was over, or people to go back to, or just… something. All Mozu had was an idea to rebuild her village from the patch of grass, trees, and brick buildings that no one cared about except her. 

That’s not much of anything. 

The feeling bothered her all on the way up. It was hard for her to figure out what Charlotte’s people liked. She’d basically never left her village, and with that gone, all she had was a culture that wasn’t relevant. She didn’t reckon she right knew what to do when the prospect of visiting her parents came up, but Charlotte kept insisting that Mozu was doing right. 

She doesn’t feel like she fits in after all. 

She sees the blonde hug her pa, who returns it without a second thought despite not looking like the type to hug people that often, looking as tough as a bear while being so bone-thin that Mozu wants to feed him extra tonight. Charlotte's ma reminds her of her own ma- all stout and tough and dirty and sweet- so much that Mozu has to make herself look at her. She’s so nice and gentle and hugs Mozu real tight like she  _ is  _ her ma that Mozu feels pissed at herself for being so anxious. Not like she can help it though. Damn it all, she had weeks to prepare for this moment and she’s about to fall flat on her face on account of jealousy. 

Charlotte’s ma looks at Mozu with a grin after hugging her. “What’s in the box?” she asks, pointing with a grand gesture. 

“Um, t-t-tarts.” 

Charlotte pops her head in. “Yeah, Mozu made ‘em herself.”  _ Aw, dammit, Charlotte, don’t be so proud, cause I’m blushing and that  _ sucks _. Don’t play with my heart like that.  _

“How nice!” Charlotte’s ma coos. “Charlotte says you’re a good chef! From what we’ve been blessed to sample, we’d agree, right Harv?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, still standing next to an eager Charlotte. 

Mozu blushes deeper. Charlotte always asks for her okay when she sends her parents letters that talk about Mozu’s life. Guess at this point even after the big war it’s impossible to talk about Charlotte without bringing up Mozu- how Charlotte’s spent more time at the kinda-village than as a border guard (even asking to be reassigned nearby for some convoluted-as-hell reason), how she’s sent them some of Mozu’s jam and canned goods with the money, how she’s been chief in helping the only villager start over by helping rebuild where that village once stood- but she always likes that Charlotte asks if it’s okay if she says what Mozu is doing in the village. What bad things happened in her past. Probably why she might be in a sour mood when they visit, come to think of it.

Sure is nice that Charlotte cares that much. 

“I’m gonna go uhm…” Mozu doesn’t really talk about what she does as much as she just  _ does it,  _ waving a too-final goodbye and walking into the kitchen, setting the box on the counter. She props herself above it, breathless and stressed as all hell. She takes a few deep breaths and blinks tears out of her eyes, wiping them with her sleeve.  _ Damn it, girl,  _ she thinks.  _ You knew what you were getting into going here. You’re doing this for her.  _

_ Sure would be easier if you didn’t have to pretend you weren’t head over heels for her, though. _

\---

“I guess all I’m wondering is,” Mom asks, staring deep into her soul like she always does with eyes moving from her rocking chair, “where’d you get the pantsuit?”

Charlotte blushes from the loveseat she and Mozu share. “A friend gave it to me,” is all she says. 

“Ooh, a friend?” 

Mom’s always curious and prodding and Charlotte hasn’t mentioned Selena in a letter. She’s gotta stop Mom before she gets her hooks too deep. “Yeah, honestly, she’s kind of a bitch.” 

Then, she covers her mouth, watching as Mom’s eyes widen. “Uh, I mean-”

“Charlotte!” Mom says, scolding in a distantly amused manner.

Mozu shoots up. “Ma’am, I’m sure she didn’t mean that!”

From a nearby couch that he lies on alone, Pop chuckles in that Pops way before saying “Oh, she did.” 

“Pop!” Charlotte yells, but hell, she’s laughing. He’s a man of few words, and Charlotte knows he’s the type to let his presence fade away with a grunt and nod. Still, those few words pack a punch, that’s for damn sure. 

Mom stares at her disapprovingly, but she’s got a knowing smile that says  _ well, I gave my eighteen years; anything after that she learned on her own.  _ Rocking again, she says “well, maybe in the next letter, you can tell me more about this… friend.”

“The bitch?” Then, another chuckle from the couch. Charlotte cackles gracelessly in response. She definitely got her sardonic nature from her dad. 

“Harvey, you are not helping,” her mother says in that familiar sing-song tone that threatens murder with a smile. Charlotte giggles this time. Even after aging out of home five years ago, she still just  _ knows  _ her parents. She could write a book about their mannerisms alone. A manual about dealing with the Lorinfer family. It would be a bestseller- all profits going to her parents, of course. 

If they hit it rich, maybe she can focus on herself. 

Mom’s soul-scouring eyes turn to Mozu. “Mozu, was it?” Mozu nods, forcing a smile. Charlotte knows she’s having a hard time, but a hard time both of them expected. She wants to hold her hand, but decides against it for everyone’s sake. “Can you tell us a little about yourself?”

Charlotte snorts. Like she hasn’t said more than Mozu ever would already. The woman in question takes such a deep breath next to her that the whole house can hear it before saying “I mean, I’m a farmer. Y’know, I like growing things and making things and other such stuff.” Her voice is shy and breathless when Charlotte knows Mozu is not those things. Even in sorrow and lowliness, she’s not really shy. Charlotte closes her eyes before anyone reads the pity in them.

“Oh? What do you like to grow?”

The heat on Mozu’s body calms next to her. “Oh, anything I can,” she responds. “I have myself a few berry bushes, which is where all the jam comes from. Also love the daikon.  _ Love  _ the daikon. There’s a kid I know that  _ loves  _ pickling even more than I do, so we do it together whenever we can.” She chuckles at the memory, and as she loosens up, Charlotte does as well. 

_ Good.  _

Gasping as if realizing something, Mozu adds “I remember that, you know, when I was in the army, we had a few things in our garden, and my green thumb was itchin’ somethin’ fierce, so I took care of all the plants and made as many meals as I could. Wasn’t the same farming in the Outrealms like it was in Hoshido, but I figured her out. It’s the most comfortable I was there because I wasn’t all that great a soldier or anythin-”

“You were  _ fine, _ ” Charlotte scolds, but she’s smiling. 

Not paying attention, Mozu finishes with “So it really made me feel at home, you know? Just… getting to take my knowledge with me and all that.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Mom says. Charlotte nods in agreement, but she can’t help but notice her mom seems a little  _ patronizing  _ about it. Like Mozu is  _ just  _ a villager,  _ just  _ a farmer. Not long ago that’s how Charlotte would see a woman like her too, but Mozu isn’t  _ just  _ anything, and the fact that she’s still here at all impresses the shit outta her. 

Her mom has a lot of fun and wonderful traits. Why did Charlotte end up inheriting the worst one?

If Mozu noticed anything off, she doesn’t comment on it. “Yeah, like… I wanna try and make somethin’ out of it, you know? It’s hard, having faith in myself and all, but like…” Suddenly embarrassed and beet red, she stops. 

“You could certainly do it,” Mom responds. “You’ll have a whole enterprise up and running in no time!” Mozu beams until she adds “And with all that money, you’ll have your village rebuilt before you can blink!”

Mozu’s face doesn’t just drain. It looks like joy never lived on it. She looks down and mutters the remnants of her conversation, trying not to shake. Mozu tells Charlotte  _ it’s been three years, I should be over losing all of that  _ so often like time is all it should take to heal all wounds. Like money is all it would take to make things normal again.

Charlotte glares at Mom, and even Pop looks up. “ _ Cindy, _ ” he utters cautiously. 

Mom frowns. She knows she stepped wrong, she just doesn’t know why she did (even though Charlotte was  _ very clear  _ about it in the letter), so she says “What I mean is, I think you could really take off. You cook well!”

Mozu forces a smile. “Greatly do appreciate that, ma’am.” Charlotte sighs, and her mom shrugs at her, confused. Charlotte knows a thing or two about letting bad behavior slide. She just hates that it’s from her mom. 

Mozu looks at Charlotte for a brief moment, and Charlotte forces a smile as well. Both know neither one means it, but it doesn’t matter. They’re fated to pretend as it is. 


	2. Chapter 2

Mozu’s free insistence that she’ll take on dinner may just have been to get away from Charlotte’s folks. She knows they mean well. Probably. At the very least Charlotte’s ma doesn’t remind her of her own with how much she’s insisting that Mozu could break the bank. That’s not really been something on her mind, but she can’t help but wonder. If Mozu had her way she would be at home in a rebuilt village farming and raising a bunch of younglings and being a central figure to the village. Everyone’s Mama Mozu. She likes that idea.

But if she had her way Charlotte would be there with her. 

She sees Charlotte with her parents. Even when she gets pissed at them Mozu can tell Charlotte loves them lots. There ain’t nothing stronger than a bond between parents and kids. She can also tell how… humble the living space is for Charlotte’s parents. Mozu finds it homey, but not very roomy. And she can’t stop thinking of the time she spent getting past Charlotte’s wall- going from a cat in a room of rocking chairs about her to choosing to find her interesting to kinda liking her to, well, this- only to find out that her goal is to marry above any station that Mozu could dream of just to get her folks money. 

Her parents just reinforced it too. At least, her ma did. Her pa never gave off the impression that he cared too much other than supporting his baby’s goals. Her ma, though, kept asking if she had found a good man yet. Well, that’s always how she framed it. Sure, she kept throwing in a morsel or two about “or a woman!” but that wasn’t the default of how she saw it. If there’s any parent where Charlotte got her cunning nature from, it’s her ma. Always asking about the royals and nobles she met and disregarding the rest, and giving Charlotte advice about how she should attract them. 

But it wasn’t like her ma was born selfish. Charlotte always told her that when she promised her folks she’d do whatever it took to make them richer, her ma put a lot of stock in that idea. They were dirt-poor, just like Mozu, but Charlotte never tells it with the nostalgia that Mozu would. Course, Charlotte also never told her to expect her ma to be so overbearing and… well,  _ straight  _ about it if you wanna know the truth, but that’s probably because the girls are still pretending that they ain’t drawn to each other enough to cover that. Probably because it would be easier that way.

All that time of Mozu climbing a wall and she gets hit with a bigger one. 

She hears footsteps in the kitchen, but she knows Charlotte’s presence. Funny how so many people have such distinct presences, and Charlotte has two. The one when she’s putting her best dress on and one when she’s with friends like Mozu. And right now it’s the latter- the footsteps are big, bold, decisive, and uninhibited. And when she stops, her presence says words that she doesn’t, and hugs her without moving. 

“Need a pair of hands?” she asks. 

Mozu nods and wordlessly gestures to a pile of potatoes to peel. Charlotte groans, but over time her bitterness has become affectionate. She first came to Mozu asking to learn to cook because she thought it’d help her get a feller, but then she realized she kinda hated it. Always makes Mozu honored and, honestly, a little apologetic that Charlotte helps her so much. She can’t imagine the girl ever faced such dirt and grime off the battlefield all her life until they met.

Still, cutting things is something she bets Charlotte could do easy. 

“I think they love you,” Charlotte whispers, teasing as she peels her first potato. “You charmer.”

“Aw, shucks.” Mozu starts stirring broth into the vegetables she already chopped up for the stew. “I’m just doing my best, you know?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte sighs, moving onto the second potato and gracelessly jamming the peeler down. Some of the skin and a chunk of potato falls off. Charlotte cusses at it and gives it another try.

“Those are gonna be some angry taters, from the looks of it.”

“Oh,  _ stop, _ ” Charlotte sasses back. “I’m doing my best not to crush them.”

“I’ll just make a side of mashed taters and call it a day.”

Charlotte just beams. In this space, Mozu can enjoy it. 

There’s a little bit of silence between the two before Charlotte adds “are you okay?” When Mozu nods on reflex, she hisses “Seriously. I know when you’re full of shit. Be honest.”

“I wasn’t  _ lyin’ _ ,” Mozu responds in a whisper. “It was instinct more’n anything. But…” She sighs, stirring again. “Just doin’ my best.” Mozu always does her best, and sometimes it gets a little tiring to keep doing her best. Maybe it’s what Charlotte thinks she has to do to get a feller, or a lady, or hell maybe something different from all of that. Just put her best face on and hope the fish bite and get her the money she and her parents need. But Mozu’s different. She ain’t got her best dress on because she wants to hit it rich with whoever she could find. She’s got her best dress on because she wants Charlotte to know that-

“Hey, Mozu.”

Mozu’s thoughts are interrupted, thank Hotoke, when Charlotte taps her on the shoulder. She jolts like Charlotte’s parents could be just around the corner, but the blonde says “It’s okay. They’re on a walk.” From the corner of her eye, Mozu sees a scowl. “Dad’s got a bad leg so I don’t know why he does. Something about keeping his muscles working.”

“Older folk  _ do  _ have to worry about that,” she muses listlessly. 

“Yeah,” Charlotte responds with a sigh. Mozu nods. There’s way too much in the space between the two actions. 

A minute later, Mozu feels a set of arms wrap around her and nearly drops the ladle in the pot. Charlotte’s never hugged her like  _ this _ . Charlotte’s not a hugger, and when she does it’s usually the most selfless she gets. Even then she never lingers too long, but there’s something that’s meant to… reward the two of them. Like Charlotte wants to hug her as badly as Mozu wants to be hugged. 

She’s about to cry. 

“You’re doing well,” Charlotte assures her quietly. The kindest tone she can manage still has a kick of attitude in it, but Mozu’s all the more thankful for it. She doesn’t know she’s crying until a tear hits the side of the pot, after which she backs away, drying her eyes.

“Thanks, Charli,” she blurts. She rarely calls Charlotte by her pet name, but hell, they’re both starving. Mozu can afford to give a little scrap of affection. Charlotte heats up next to her, and so does her breath. Mozu’s about to have a heart attack herself.  _ Gosh, she’s really driving me wilder than a cat on a hot tin roof.  _ Then she smiles triumphantly.  _ This old country cat's still got game, at least. _

The door cracks and Charlotte about leaps off. As her folks file in, in the midst of conversation, the two women look at each other with a knowing sad smile before returning to their tasks. Mozu knows Charlotte’s already putting a mask back on, as she’s used to, but it isn’t that of a precious, fragile little flower. It’s that of someone who wants to be what her parents think she should be. 

Mozu manages to sneak through a mischievous whisper “that suit looks mighty fine on you” before she turns back to the sink. She hears the peeler cut into the body of the potato and Charlotte curse, and finds that to be a grand old way to take the edge off.

\---

The four of them sit around for dinner, and Charlotte’s awed at how little Mozu has to do to win her parents over. She knows the brunette is trying hard to keep it together, as she keeps the conversation on food and sharing gardening tips with Mom while Pop chimes in an approving word or two, but that’s enough for them. Hell, Charlotte’s fine with that. Didn’t take Mozu much to win her over either, just a hard work ethic and an authentic aw-shucks attitude. 

She’s smiling as Mozu and Mom really get into the problems and solutions of growing tomatoes (and cracks a smirk when Mozu says “that’s the easiest plant to grow that I can think of” considering Mom’s tomatoes die every year) because, really, what else can she do? She still knows that the lilting tone in Mom’s voice sounds like she is talking to one of her child’s little friends. She still knows that neither Mom or Pop take Mozu seriously. She knows that they’ll never imagine that Charlotte could have feelings for a poor girl with a destroyed village rebuilding with spit and gumption like that’s all it would take to make her dreams come true… but listen to that. Doesn't she sound like a dream? 

She doesn’t talk or eat much during dinner, just offering the smile until the mask falls off, resenting the whole damn fact of the matter. 

Mom offers to wash the dishes. Before Mozu can insist that she do it (because she will) Charlotte says “you should take a load off for sure. You’re doing a ton for all of this.” More than anyone will ever know, at that. 

Mom giggles. “I agree. You and Char should take the tarts you made and enjoy some fresh air!” As she takes the bowl by Mozu, she adds “the night air is so wonderful around here!”

“Not really,” Pop responds bluntly, to Mom’s muted horror. “But it’ll do in a pinch.”

“ _ Harvey, _ ” Mom warns. Pop smirks like someone who will probably pay for it later but who is too old to care. 

Charlotte cracks laughter, and Mozu visibly relaxes. “Yeah, I mean, if we’re lucky we’ll see a star or two tonight. Thanks, Mom.” Then, turning to Mozu: “After you.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Mozu responds, taking two tarts from the box and handing one to Charlotte. Charlotte grins at the tart and at Mozu’s eagerness to leave, and both find their way out of the door without saying a word. 

As it turns out, through towering and clustered forest trees, the two of them can see stars in the sky. At least, Charlotte is doing her best to make it seem like there are stars through the storm clouds that seem to be omnipresent in Nohr. With a bit of tart in her mouth, she says “Iff not, like, Hofido skies or nuffin-” then, swallowing as Mozu titters childishly “but, you know, it’s pretty nice in its own way.”

“You sounded like me,” Mozu points out before taking another cautious nibble on her own pastry.

“Too bad I don’t eat like you too,” Charlotte responds, taking another hefty bite of hers. 

Mozu swallows. “Aw, shucks,” she responds. “Y’all are too kind.”

Charlotte shrugs. Taking the courtesy to swallow first:  “I mean, anything is better than this. Even when I’m on a date, I’m still trying my damnedest to not eat like a drunk slob with a mutton leg.”

Mozu bristles a little when Charlotte mentions her dates. She tries not to give a huff at it in return because she knows why it bugs Mozu. They both know why. Everyone in the three kingdoms probably knows it, and it pisses her the hell off. Then, as fast as it happened, it stops, and the two are smiling again. It comes naturally to Charlotte, but she’s definitely putting work into keeping it there. 

_ Nothing’s gonna ruin my night. Nothing. Not even me.  _

“Good tart,” she offers, and Mozu blushes. She’s too easily embarrassed for someone who knows she’s a damn good chef. She needs some confidence. “All homemade ingredients?”

Mozu shrugs. “Kinda. Kept some of the wheat from the Outrealm, but the rest is from home.”

“It’s been like over a year,” Charlotte points out. “That wheat is still good?”

“Longevity’s better in the Outrealms,” Mozu points out. “Least the ones we were in. That’s what their majesty Corrin told me.” 

“Aha.”

“Y’know me,” she continues. Charlotte grins because the more country Mozu sounds, the more invested she is, and she could use a big Mozu farming spiel right now. “I don’t like takin’ chances, but they told me to take as much as I need. Then decided that enough weren’t enough, and, well… I figured after everything they weren’t gonna kill me with expired grain an’ all. Be like getting poisoned only it takes way too long and is way too based off of happenstance and the like. Plus probably I’d only get a stomach ache somethin’ fierce. Least that’s what happened when I had some spoiled grain before when I was a kid. Oh, but Ma just lost track of time, you know? She wasn’t trying to kill me or nothin’.”

“I believe you,” Charlotte says, giggling. 

Mozu beams, looking up at the sky. “Yeah, she was real nice.” She always finds it easier to talk about her mom around her than… anyone else, really. At least, if it’s just her alone. It’s just an element of their relationship. Mozu has a habit of addressing things she doesn’t like to with emotional gravitas, then light freedom, and Charlotte has not seen her make both steps with anyone else. 

They eventually find their way to a downed log, which is all good in her eyes. Even though her heart is suspiciously rocketing, she’s exhausted at the same time. Mozu takes a seat next to her with a shy smile. 

“I bet Ma would like you,” she whispers, and Charlotte realizes that it’s been a while since she had a good shave because all her hairs are standing on end and some are a little too outstretched for comfort. She reaches for Mozu’s hand more as a plead for mercy than anything, even though the grace of the Gods is all that keeps Charlotte from losing it in a million tiny pieces all over her. 

_ You’d be a good mom,  _ she thinks.

“Thanks, Mozey,” she responds.

“So that’s my nickname,” Mozey muses, a chirp in her voice. 

“Look, I’m tired, okay?” Charlotte whines, leaning back lazily. “Just be glad it wasn’t something… stupider, like… I dunno, candy, or honey, or sugart-”

“Mozey’s fine!” she all but shrieks with a fiery blush, making Charlotte cackle. She can push the villager’s buttons way too easily. Mozu settles down and says “I mean it, y’know. Mozey is cute. Like, you know, mosey around?” 

“Totally what I was going for.”

Mozu slaps Charlotte on the chest. Packs a punch, too. “Liar.”

“You trying to leave a crater in there, Mozey? Gods.”

“Ain’t possible, Charli,” she says. Charlotte notices her gradually lean over her body, and she’s way too okay with that idea for her own good. “You’re made of steel.”

Charlotte closes her eyes.  _ Made of steel.  _ Anyone else that would say that to her wouldn’t feel the same way. No guy wants a maiden of steel, in her experience. Not enough of anyone else either. From the start those around put her in the category of  _ freak, loner, _ and  _ rude,  _ until those grew into words like  _ asshole  _ and  _ bitch  _ and worse words than that, then they settled into more innocuous words that hurt her more.  _ Difficult. Homely. Combative. Brute.  _ The finality of them is what hurts Charlotte the most. That was where her individuality was always gonna end up.

That's why she changed- or at least, pretended. If others saw how much of a machine she was, how bullheaded and foulmouthed she was, how she’s a dirt-poor boor with an axe… well, there’s not really a lot of appeal that has. Charlotte  _ has  _ to have appeal. She  _ has  _ to be that of  _ someone.  _ She has to be everything they want.

But… she  _ is  _ made out of steel, isn’t she?

And Mozu makes her feel content with that. 

Charlotte opens them. She’s noticed that Mozu has inched a little closer, hunger teasing the edges of her molasses eyes. They’ve never talked about being physical because Charlotte finds it boring and she can tell by looking at Mozu she’s gotten no more than a few lackluster makeout sessions with teens her age at the time, but as inexperienced as Mozu looks, she looks like she  _ wants  _ Charlotte. That she’s  _ attracted  _ to Charlotte. That Charlotte is made of steel that an iron woman cannot break through, but despite everything she was told, she’s still so beautiful, so desirable, so  _ wanted.  _

Charlotte thought she was a cynical woman until she fell for Mozu. 

Something about the look in Charlotte’s eyes must say something to the villager, because the next thing she knows, their lips connect. Then the next thing she knows after that, it is  _ not  _ graceful, probably because Mozu is still running off of hormones and lack of experience since she was still a teen, and Charlotte- despite all of her experience with men and women alike- has not really kissed anyone before in her life. Not the fingers-in-her-hair, tongue-in-her-mouth, breathless and reverent way that Mozu is kissing her right now.

Gods, there’s nowhere in the forest for them except for this log but she’s dug her nails in, waiting for  _ something  _ to happen, to take her to the next level, and that’s how she lets go, lets her hands fall, realizes that this whole thing is a fantasy that she cannot have. 

Charlotte taps Mozu on the shoulder to stop. Well, in theory, she taps. The way Mozu reacts, she might have socked her straight to the moon, the way she jumps back. Eventually, beet red and flustered beyond her capacity to understand, Mozu asks “is something wrong?”

There’s a hell of a lot wrong, but Charlotte cannot begin to talk about it or hope to sort it out. She whispers weakly “can we just… go back? Before we get carried away.” That’s as loud as she can speak without it going to a shriek and screaming  _ damn it all  _ at life and the path it put her on. The path that she thought was suitable until this very moment.

Mozu looks confused at first, then she gets it. The light leaves her eyes, but the shattered pieces of love remain, rejected but reluctant to leave. She watches Charlotte sit up and says coldly, formally, “yeah. I reckon we could go back. Probably gettin’ late and all.” The strain in her voice betrays how much strength it must have taken her not to pick Charlotte up and throw her against a tree- and probably how much she would kiss her even then.

She looks her in the eyes. Mozu tears away too quickly, too desperately.  _ Fuck. _

“Yeah,” Charlotte hisses as if hit. The tension in the air chills over but suffocates her further. “It is getting late,” 

_ Probably getting too late.  _


	3. Chapter 3

Mozu knows that Charlotte’s folks are asleep in their room. Last she checked, Charlotte was asleep on the loveseat, legs splayed on the arm, blanket half-draped like one of those statues that Corrin had strewn around their castle. The family pulled out a spare cot for Mozu for her stay because she swore she could sleep anywhere. Right now, though, she can’t. She can’t, and the cot ain’t exactly the problem. 

There’s not a star in the sky above her as she sits cross-legged on the porch. It’s all storm and smoke and her tears get all mixed up in the rain. She can’t deny why she’s sad anymore, is the thing that really gets her. She could deny it before. She knew what Charlotte set out to do from the start. And when she visited Charlotte’s folks, she could see how much she needed to do that. But it ain’t fair. It ain’t fair to Charlotte to play a role she wasn’t meant for and it ain’t fair to the woman who loves her, who invested all of her hopes of a better life in a lover that won’t allow herself to love Mozu back.

_ Damn it all. Damn it all and how much it hurts. _

She’s tried her hardest not to resent Charlotte for it all, but it’s all such a big tangled mess she honestly never imagined that she would be in. And as much as she doesn't wanna admit it, Charlotte's caused a lot of it with her indecision and how she wants both the money and Mozu at the same time. Honestly, she wishes the woman would just  _ choose  _ and let her go mourn in peace because she's getting mighty impatient. 

Probably was naive of her to not know that anything would be so complicated. Life for Mozu’s in stark colors. Shades of gray are the stuff of legends. She wasn’t a girl ever for legends or fairy tales or none of that. She was all about the reality of the matter, so guess it’s fitting that reality socked her on the nose. She groans through her tears about how dang stupid she is. 

She sighs.  _ Come on, Mozu, get it together.  _

It’s not like she ever faced the whole reality being taken away from her life before. That’s what took her on this journey from the ripe old age of seventeen away from the remnants of her village- the two hollowed-out buildings of rotting wood she was forced to leave behind- and onto a journey with Corrin. She had to grow up a lot then, from spending so long wishing her village and its people were back to getting the gumption to rebuild the village and bring in new people.  She never thought one of those people would be Charlotte, even if it wasn’t permanent, and she knew that eventually Charlotte would find herself a feller and she’d lose the most normal presence in her life.

And that’s what makes her stand up. 

Because she ain’t going through that again. 

She already fought her tail off trying to get this village off the ground when no one in the world would. A little village with no name that no one cared about but she could find the exact place of off a map that never listed it. She’s fighting for what she wants, and she’s gotta do that again, because if Charlotte leaves her for some no-name feller she might not even  _ like,  _ her village will never feel totally like home.

She turns around and nearly runs right into Charlotte. She can’t tell which of the two of them screams louder, but she’s pretty sure her own shriek could pierce the heavens something fierce. 

“Shush!” Charlotte commands in a whisper. “You’re gonna wake my parents up.”

“You were yellin’ too!” Mozu spits back awful petulant. 

“Okay, whatever,” Charlotte responds. “I was worried you were running off back home or something.”

“Why the hell would I do something as dumb as that?” 

Charlotte sits on the porch. She’s in a long brown nightgown that reminds Mozu of her work dress. Her own nightclothes are just her smallclothes and a tunic over it all. “I don’t know. I guess I thought you had enough.”

Mozu sighs and takes a seat next to her. Sometimes she’s sure Charlotte gets her and other times it’s like they never met in their lives. “I ain’t always likin’ everything going on but I ain’t ever quit a thing in my natural-born life.”

“Maybe you should sometimes, you know,” she says in a crackly tone. “Save yourself the heartbreak. If you know it’s going nowhere.”

Mozu slumps forward. “Guessing we’re going nowhere, are we?”

Charlotte takes in a sharp breath. “Mozey…”

“Please,” she says abruptly. “Appreciate it if you didn’t call me that right now.” She closes her eyes as she feels Charlotte’s presence loosen to the point of nearly falling apart by her, about to give up itself. Mozu doesn’t like being mean or harsh or even confrontational, but nothing’s hurting her more than hearing Charlotte be sweet and not mean anything by it.

Charlotte finally speaks. “I just… don’t know what to do.” 

Mozu can’t rightly say she ever heard sound Charlotte sound so insecure. She’s seen Charlotte be insecure, but it’s always in the form of biting anger at herself or others. Charlotte doesn’t let herself  _ sound  _ insecure, even when she’s got her mask on, and right now it sounds like she can’t help it. 

Charlotte continues. “I think I had this idea of… what I had to do for Mom and Pop. Like you say, ain’t nothin’ more important than family. And… I hate seeing them this poor after everything they did to provide for me. I’d do anything for them.” 

“Anythin’?” Mozu presses her. 

“Well… that’s what I thought,” Charlotte responds. “And anything became… more than I envisioned at first. Pretending to be someone I wasn’t because who I am was never gonna nab anyone who would make my parents better off.” She claps her hand on her lap and growls. “Least that’s what everything told me. And… now it’s just bitter work that I know benefits them more than it does me but...  it’s like inertia, you know? I started down that path. Can’t stop now.”

“You sure?”

Charlotte looks at her, confused and a little indignant. “What do you mean?”

“You were tellin’ me that I maybe should quit things if they were goin’ nowhere. And I’m tellin’ ya you should consider that too.” 

Charlotte looks at the sky. Mozu notices that she’s crying now, just like she was. “I can’t just stop,” she insists. “I can’t leave them like that. I have to take care of them like they took care of me, you know?” She looks at Mozu, and starts to say something, but stops and looks away again. Mozu knows what she stopped herself from saying, and it’s sweet of her to hold back (especially cause the Charlotte of yesteryear wouldn’t have thought to), but it still slaps the wind right outta her. 

Would Mozu do anything for her own ma? Absolutely. 

But that ain’t the end of it.

“Pretty sure she’d want me to be happy too,” she says in response to the point Charlotte almost made. “And none of this makes you happy.” Mozu swallows and notes the silence. “And I would make you happy. I just know it.”

Charlotte looks up at the sky some more. With barely a voice to account for, she says “Yeah. You would.”

Mozu sighs in a way that’s building something up. Like the kind of sigh before a long slog of work. Cause this won’t be fixed in a day. Nothin’ about this will be easy. But she’s gotta try. 

“Charli, when we met I thought you were just fake and judgmental. And that’s on me, cause I judged you too before I got to know you. I thought you didn’t have time for me. And then I realized you thought you couldn’t. But you made time for me. You made a place for me out of thin air. And I  _ gotta  _ believe that’s saying something.”

Charlotte sniffles, but doesn’t say anything. Mozu reckons she doesn’t have a real clear answer. 

“I  _ love  _ you,” she insists, voice desperate. “I love the parts of you that cuss and eat like a drunk and lift up and throw boulders and farm with me ‘til the sun goes down. I love the parts of you that’s rude and blunt and aggressive for no reason and keep me on my toes and make me smart enough to talk back to ya. I love the parts of you that care and that’s invested and how when something’s in your life it is  _ in your life.  _ I love the parts of you that cut the potatoes in half by mistake and wants to convince me that I can see stars in the sky when the only one I see is on the ground walkin’ next to me. I don’t just love the parts of you with the gold hair and the white dresses and sweet voice and city girl mannerisms too good for both of us. It’s more’n that. The life I want is one with you in it, and if it ain’t gonna happen then I’ll move on and find someone new, I reckon, but I’m always gonna regret that you ain’t part of my family deep down in my heart. And if you go the way you think you gotta go, no one’s never ever gonna get much further than loving the parts they’re s’posed to.”

Mozu gasps for air. Now she’s tired as all hell, but she can’t say that she’s surprised. Usually, after saying something that big, she wants to run away and hide in her bed under the covers. Has done it before, at that. But she stays because that’s what grown women like Mozu do. 

Charlotte doesn’t say anything. She sits up, staring pensively at the clouds. 

“I know this ain’t gonna be easy,” Mozu says, standing up. “It’s gonna take a lot of time for you to figure out. Just… think about it, okay? Cause… you can’t make everyone happy. And as selfish as it is to say… I want you to make me happy. Cause I wanna make you happy too.”

Charlotte nods behind her, still sitting on the porch. Mozu can see the edges of a smile teasing her lips. 

“And come inside soon, okay? It’s getting rainy.”

With that, Mozu enters the house again, wondering to herself when Charlotte will join her.


	4. Chapter 4

Mom and Pop probably know that something is awkward between them, but they don’t address it. Mom stirs up some tea in her cup, Pop some coffee. Charlotte and Mozu aren’t drinking anything. This is probably the first time they aren’t consuming more than their share, which should scare everyone involved. Still, they seem content, which scares Charlotte more than she already is, and she’s pretty damn scared. Do they just not find Mozu important enough that the air between them being so suffocating doesn’t register?

Mozu looks ahead with the kind of people-pleasing smile Charlotte could only dream of. It'd comfort her if she wasn’t able to recognize a fake smile when she saw it. That smile’s got no expression on it, bringing the urgency of everything to Charlotte’s heart. 

“It’s awfully quiet in here,” Mom says after a cheerful sip of tea. 

“Long night,” Mozu softly explains. 

“Hope you slept okay!” Mom responds. “I know it’s a little bit of close quarters in here, but we try to keep it as homey and open as we can afford.” 

Mozu darkens a little. “It’s charming,” she offers. “Don’t worry none about me.”

Charlotte has to bite her tongue to avoid saying  _ like you have to worry about that, Mozu. _

“Hopefully in a few years’ time,” Mom adds, “You’ll be visiting us in a much nicer place than this.” Charlotte scowls, and the artificial life in Mozu’s cheeks starts to drain. Pop notices that Charlotte looks like a storm cloud herself and raises an eyebrow. It’s not really a challenge in the way that he wants Charlotte to fail, but it’s a challenge nonetheless. 

“I actually wanted to talk about that.”

Mom looks at Charlotte with a surprised, charming smile. “Sure, honey. I’d love to hear it.”

Somehow, Charlotte doubts that. 

“I, uhm…” This plan (last minute and desperate as it is) strikes her as hackneyed and messy, but messy is just how she does things. “I didn’t really tell you the whole truth until now, because it’s a big… thing.” Mom still looks at her with a smile, but she’s clearly confused. Pop’s not, but Mom is. “I didn’t bring Mozu here just so y’all could meet my friend. I…” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “Gods damn it, this is… hoo.”

“It’s okay,” Pop says, all but urging her to finish. 

So Charlotte says it. 

“I came here to ask for your blessing.”

Her parents look surprised, but Mozu looks literally gobsmacked. Maybe by all the gods at once. This couldn’t have been the direction she expected everything to go in. Not this abruptly, anyway. Everything’s spent too long up in the air for Charlotte to put her foot down like this, but here she is, just a boor with an axe who wants to be happy.

“With her?” Mom chokes.

“With her.”

Mom tries to regain her composure. She’s smiling, but very cautiously so. Pop looks cosmically amused but remains silent. Eventually, Mom says “Telling us without telling her first, Charlotte? That’s quite romantic!” She doesn’t sound as authentic as Charlotte hoped, but Charlotte knows she’s trying. “Look at your friend! She’s adorable right now.”

“Pretty sure they’re not just friends,” Pop points out. 

“That’s astute,” Charlotte snarks back. Next to her, Mozu arrives back down at Earth, but her hands are still over her mouth. 

“I…” Mom closes her eyes and winces, the way one does when they’ve just hit a wall. “I do like the idea.” In a tone that forces confidence and betrays its lack, she continues “Mozu’s a tough lady and a fantastic chef. She’s definitely going places in this world. I can tell!”

Mozu forces a nod and a smile. It’s just good enough, but it isn’t enough of something real. 

“Mom,” Charlotte adds, breathing heavily. “That’s not necessarily what I mean. I mean that… I wanna marry this woman even if she stays in her village for the rest of her life.”

Mozu gasps again, tears starting to trace her face. She looks at Charlotte with wide eyes. 

“Cause that’s what you want,” Charlotte responds tenderly, smiling freely. For a moment, she’s not carrying a burden. “Isn’t it, Mozu?”

Mozu shakes. “I mean… I don’t know what I want yet,” she admits. “There’s just…” she looks at her parents. “So much that’s happened. Stuff I gotta sort through. But…” She looks at Charlotte, who looks at her daringly, challenging her like her father just did. 

_ I know it’s sudden, but your mind’s made up anyways, isn’t it? _

“Yeah,” Mozu admits. “Guess I’m not in a rush or anything.”

Pops is smirking like he knew that this was how it was always gonna go. Mom tries to smile, but she’s vulnerable, and Charlotte hates that. It doesn’t feel good to make her mom upset just so she won’t be. She just knows that this is how it has to go. It’s the only way she’s gonna be really living. 

“I mean…” Mom starts. “I really do like Mozu. She’s a very nice and respectable lady…”

Charlotte’s eyes start to narrow.  _ Go ahead,  _ they dare. 

“I just… is the life you want for yourself? We’ve… talked before. You always mentioned your desire to…” The hesitation is making Charlotte impatient and visibly angry. Pop isn’t chiming in to help, meaning Charlotte has to spend every agonizing second in silence. “Be affluent, I guess. Marry a prince or a soldier or some other nice man and not have to work as hard. Or be as poor, you know?”

Mozu’s hand grabs at her own dress and possibly into her own leg when Mom mentions a man in her life. Gods bless her for trying, but she’s exhaustingly heteronormative. Charlotte reaches for that hand. After a few seconds, Mozu takes it, but digs her nails into that hand instead. It hurts, but Charlotte giggles instead. Oh well, she’s had worse.

Pop smiles. 

“Honestly, Mom,” she says. “I was wrong. I want nothing more than this.”

Mom nods and exchanges a look with Pop. He’s still smiling, the most fantastical he’s ever looked, and anything that Mom was about to say dies on her tongue. She smiles instead, but it’s fraught with unease and a hint of bitterness that Charlotte feels bad about, but doesn’t regret.

“We’re your parents,” Pop says. “We’re always gonna want that’s best for you.” Knowingly, he adds “And you seem to know what that is, don’t you?”

Pop isn’t challenging her anymore. He’s giving his blessing. At that moment, Charlotte breathes for the first time in the five years since she left. She knows she’s gonna be happy, and she likes that idea. 

Charlotte just nods, and Mozu’s grip loosens on her. Looking at her, she says “I do.”

Mozu meets her eyes with pride more prevalent than anything else. Her eyes are shining, she’s smiling tenderly, and she’s got more faith in her posture. 

Charlotte isn’t sure why she ever thought anything else would measure up to how she’s feeling right now. 

\---

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Mozu reckons that to be the twelfth time that Charlotte has told her that. She might have lost count, but it’s definitely double digits. It’s not enough, and she returns every last one. According to Charlotte, it’s her making up for lost time, and Mozu can ride with that. 

The carriage feels heavier going back than it did coming in if you ask Mozu. That’s wild because a lot of it going was food that she made at her home or there that they’re not taking back. Maybe it’s the stormy night sky she’s under that’s not nearly as commonplace in Hoshido. Maybe it’s how heavy and tired they both feel, Mozu resting against Charlotte’s chest and Charlotte against the carriage door. It’s probably not, but since the whole thing is heaviness she doesn’t mind, she probably thought it was something good like that.

Least they ain’t pretending they don’t love each other anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte whispers into Mozu’s hair. “I knew this wasn’t gonna be easy.”

“It’s okay.”

“Yeah, it’s just…” Charlotte sniffles. She’s not pretending she doesn’t cry anymore either. “I wish they were better about it. I didn’t want you to have to struggle some more. I’m sorry.”

Mozu shakes her head. “It’s really okay, Charli.” In fact, it was kinda better than suggested. Awkward as hell, yes, but Mozu honestly expected the two of them to be picked up by their drawers and thrown out of the house so it was a pleasant surprise for them to continue the visit for the rest of the day. Even if Charlotte’s pa wouldn’t stop looking dazed and her ma was weird about damn near everything. She only had about eight hours to take in that her daughter was marrying a poor Hoshidan woman, and even though she didn’t get very far at all, Mozu’s impressed that she’s going at all. At the end of it all, Charlotte’s ma pulled her aside before she got on her carriage and said “Just take care of my baby, okay? And keep in touch.” It’s gonna be the way Charlotte’s ma sees her for a while, a prospective provider, but it’s a start at least. 

She’s been through worse. A little rockiness wasn’t gonna kill her now.

“I'm sorry this took me so long to see,” Charlotte continues.

“You ain't gotta keep apologizing.” 

“But…” she breathes. She's mighty small right now but Mozu knows she won't stay that way. “I spent so long keeping you waiting. Trying to figure out what to do. I'm so…” She takes a deep breath and doesn't finish her sentence. 

“You sorted through an awful lotta baggage just to get here,” Mozu responds. “I know what that's like. And I'm real grateful you did that for my sake.” 

She kisses Mozu's forehead, then says “You deserve it, Mozey.” 

“Aw, Charli…” 

The carriage moves in silence for a few minutes. Mozu's pretty sure she can't snuggle up to her any harder but at least she's got a long while to try.

“Just know I’m serious, okay?” Charlotte starts again, voice clearer. “You don’t have to become some successful maven or businesswoman if you don’t want to, okay? If you wanna stay and rebuild your village, absolutely do that. I really have no intention of stopping you. Hell, I  _ want  _ that for us both. It’s the most real thing I’ve felt in a lot of time.”

Mozu coos, nestling in her lady love’s lap at long last. “I know you do. But your ma said to take care of you. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Charlotte smirks. “That’s funny.”

Mozu blinks. “Cause she still wants me to be the one to take care of you?” A pause, then “I mean, I can do that. I just-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Charlotte interrupts, clearly not being able to care less. “It’s just that Pop told me something different when I went to kiss him goodbye.”

“Oh really? What’d he say?”

Charlotte clears her throat. Mozu wonders if she’s doing that to impersonate her pa’s gravelly voice until she takes another breath, the type that’s getting ready for something. “He said ‘she’s taking care of a lot. It’s your turn to care for her.’”

Mozu gasps. “Oh, Charli…” A few tears prick her eyes. At best, her pa seemed passive and at most a little confrontational. She most certainly didn’t expect this. 

“I’m gonna,” Charli promises. “I promise you that.”

Mozu sighs dreamily. “We both can. And I think we both will. Ain’t like you’re marrying a feller where like it or not everyone expects you to be taken care of.”

Charlotte snorts gracelessly. “That’s true enough. We’re both strong and stubborn women. It’s like… it wouldn’t be normal of me to do that. Or of you. And we’re most ourselves together, right?”

“Absolutely.” 

Charlotte kisses her on the top of her head. Mozu giggles. It goes silent, and Mozu reckons it’ll take about four hours to get back to the village with the two rotted buildings that were near uninhabitable when the war was over but is their home now. It seems like forever, but Mozu doesn’t mind making their first moments last. Especially after waiting so long. Everything else ahead of her… it can wait. It can definitely wait.

Now’s all she needs. 

“I love you, Mozey.”

Mozu nods. She knows. She probably knew that all along. 


End file.
